 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
494
ON THE DOORSTEP
The rain imprinted the step's wet shine
With target-circles that quivered and crossed
As I was leaving this porch of mine;
When from within there swelled and paused
A song's sweet note;
And back I turned, and thought,
“Here I'll abide.”
With target-circles that quivered and crossed
As I was leaving this porch of mine;
When from within there swelled and paused
A song's sweet note;
And back I turned, and thought,
“Here I'll abide.”
The step shines wet beneath the rain,
Which prints its circles as heretofore:
I watch them from the porch again,
But no song-notes within the door
Now call to me
To shun the dripping lea;
And forth I stride.
Which prints its circles as heretofore:
I watch them from the porch again,
But no song-notes within the door
Now call to me
To shun the dripping lea;
And forth I stride.
Jan. 1914.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |